


Juxtaposition

by AZGirl



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode: s02e08 Til Death, F/M, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 01:05:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AZGirl/pseuds/AZGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite all the beauty held within, it’s difficult not to compare this place to a cemetery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Juxtaposition

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by ncismom. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

**ooooooo**

 

Despite all the beauty held within, it’s difficult not to compare this place to a cemetery.

The rows of semi-uniform grave markers all carry the names of people, many of which are long gone. Each is a memorial to a moment in time, which is constantly overshadowed by the one next to it.

Their beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Every visitor sees and feels something different. Their attentions and emotions are captured either by one or by many of the rows and rows of memories.

As much as I’ve always found solace in this place, its design and the beauty within always invokes a wide variety of visceral reactions within me. It’s to one particular memorial, one particular monument that I’m drawn to every time I come here.

It’s not the only one I’m familiar with; in fact, I’m well acquainted with the whole of this place. But, the moment I step foot onto the property, I have to go it first, regardless of anything else around me.

De Chirico once said that every object has two appearances: a current one and a spectral one.* The first thing anyone sees is its current appearance, as they approach is the red tower and the dark foreground.  I see something entirely different; I see the spectral appearance in the form of memories.

I remember a year in Italy and a birthday scavenger hunt. I remember meeting a man who liked to eat ice cream in winter and an engagement ring tucked inside a copy of _Sense and Sensibility_. I remember the man I loved, the man I still love.

The first time I ever saw De Chirico’s _The Red Tower_ , I knew I wanted to be an artist. Years later, seeing it again at the Guggenheim, I knew that Harold and I were meant to be together.

Our relationship had still been new and we were still getting to know each other, but Harold surprising me with my favorite painting had been the tipping point.

We were happy together and I loved him as I’ve loved no other person in my life.

He was taken away from me far, far too soon, and though he has a grave complete with tombstone, I prefer to come here to remember him.

The painting I so admire is a fitting memorial to our love. Love changes everything. It changed how I saw the world and it changed how I saw _The Red Tower_.

Now that Harold is gone, the way I see my painting has changed yet again. It is now a testament to a whole host of memories that I will forever hold close to my heart. Its dreamlike atmosphere is a moment frozen in time and so is the love that I shared with Harold. Neither one can flourish ever again.

Museum or cemetery – it’s all the same to me. 

 

**ooooooo**

_The end._

**ooooooo**

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic from the POV of a minor character. If you have the time, can you let me know how I did?
> 
> Cross-posted on fanfiction.net.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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